Giving It Up
by SmallTownBelle
Summary: With five hours between them, Kurt and Blaine have different lives. They're still together, but is Blaine willing to give everything up for Kurt?    klaine future fic.
1. One

Kurt sighed, as he flopped down on the small couch of his New York City Apartment. He let out a groan as the phone in the kitchen began to ring, and he reluctantly stood, padding out into the white washed kitchen.

"Hello?" He asked his tone frustrated, he'd much rather be trying to get his sketches finished.

"Well, way to be angry." His long-term boyfriend teased, causing a smile to pull at the corners of his mouth.

"Sorry, Blaine, honey. I just got home from picking up material for that dress, and I've got three sketches to finish before Friday," He sighed, looking at the calendar, two weeks from now there was a big circle on a Tuesday, the day Blaine was moving in.

"Understandable." Blaine chuckled. He knew how much pressure Kurt was under, newly graduated from college and trying to make a name for himself in the fashion world. Blaine often got emails full of photos of Kurt's sketches, trying to get some sort of opinion. He wished he could be there for Kurt, he wished he could storm into his apartment and just hold him. But, living five hours away made it rather difficult. Blaine had graduated a year before Kurt, he had decided to go into teaching. He was a certified music teacher. Only a week after his graduation, he had got news of his Grandmother's death, and learned that in her will, he had inherited her lake house in Vermont. He had been living there for two years. Kurt had drove to visit him there once, and Blaine had driven to New York to see Kurt numerous times, but it was never the same as when they dated while going to Dalton together. Then they could see each other every day, they spent every night together. It was bittersweet, graduating from Dalton.

"Plus, I miss you, and I can't wait for you to move in." Kurt half-smiled, before jumping up to sit on the kitchen counter, his legs dangling.

"I miss you too." Blaine frowned, looking out the window over the lake. He didn't want to move and leave this view behind, he didn't want to leave. He loved it here. He loved Kurt more, of course, and would give anything up to be with him, he just wished he didn't have to. He had had the conversation with Kurt a thousand times it seemed. If Kurt was going to make a name for himself, he had to be in the center of everything; New York. He couldn't just move to Vermont, there was nothing going on in Vermont. As he had explained to a heartbroken Blaine, if they were going to live together, they had to be in New York, at least until Kurt made his mark. By that time, Kurt had rationalized, Blaine would absolutely love the city and not want to leave.

Blaine was less than excited to move from his large sprawling lake house to a tiny cramped apartment, but for Kurt, it was worth it.

"What, you're not having second thoughts about moving in, are you?" Kurt asked, his tone sounding frustrated again, he didn't understand why Blaine was so hesitant to leave Vermont.

"No, none at all, Love." Blaine half smiled, trying to convince himself more than he was trying to convince Kurt.

"Good." Kurt smiled, thinking about wrapping the curly-haired boy in a hug, "So, why did you call?" Blaine made a face, having to quickly think of an excuse, he had honestly called to try to convince Kurt to move in with him again.

"I just missed your voice, Kurtie-pie." He half smiled, it was true, just not why he had called.

"Well, you'll hear it all day everyday soon, I'm sure you'll be sick of me." The younger, yet slightly taller boy laughed, "I've got to finish my sketches and dress, and get some dinner. I'll talk to you later, love?"

"Of course, Kurt." Blaine smiled.

"I love you, Blainey-boo." Kurt sang before hopping down off the counter.

"I love you too." Blaine replied before hanging the phone up, his gaze still on the lake.

* * *

Kurt hummed to himself as he walked back into the living room, pulling out his sketchbook, happily working on a suit he had started designing a week before. He was so excited that Blaine was moving in. He admitted, it was going to make the already cramped space even smaller. He didn't have a work space, so he had set up shop in the living room. He sighed, setting his sketchbook down before quickly looking around the living room. There was a mannequin with a half a dress he had started for the girl who lived down a floor. Her senior prom was coming up, and she paid Kurt to make her dress. He really should work on it, he just didn't want to. He let out another sigh before going to get his scissors and pins; it was going to be a long night.

* * *

Blaine let out a groan as he hung up the phone. Cities weren't his thing. He had gone to college outside of New York City, so he and Kurt had stayed close together, weekends either spent in Kurt's dorm or his own. Friday was the last day of the school year in the district Blaine worked in, and two weeks from Tuesday, he would be leaving all of it behind to move. He hated having to tell the kids he worked with he was moving. Blaine worked in an elementary school, and because of that, he taught every child in the building. The school was K-4, so everyday of the week, he had a different group of students. This year's first graders had had Blaine as their music teacher since he had started teaching there, and it was hard for him to tell the students he'd be leaving.

"Mr. Anderson!" They had all cried out, "You can't leave!" Within the jumbled voices of twenty two first graders, one little girl, Eliza, had started to cry.

"Now now, everyone sh!" He had said, firm, trying not to cry as he watched Eliza, "Today is our last day together as a class, so let's make it good. No crying, no yelling, no fighting." He had smiled, and the kids had settled down. Blaine had gone over and picked up his ukulele; a class favorite, and started to play. The kids smiled, singing along with him to Do-Re-Mi from the Sound of Music. When the bell rang, the kids filed out of class one by one, telling him goodbye, and how much they'd miss him. Except for Eliza. She stayed in her chair, a frown on her face. Blaine walked over and sat down next to her. He knew that Eliza came from a broken home with no father, and she had adopted Blaine as her father figure.

"Why are you leaving, Mr. Anderson?" She had asked him with a sniffle.

"Eliza." He had sighed, unsure of how to tell her. She got up and went to his desk, pointing to a picture of Kurt and himself.

"Is it him?" She asked, looking at the photo, "You're happy, Mr. Anderson. Who is that?" She had cocked her head to the side like a confused puppy.

"It is him." He had responded with a nod and a slight smile before standing up and walking to his desk, sitting in his chair, "That's my boyfriend."

"He's happy too, Mr. Anderson." She had smiled, before quickly leaving, leaving Blaine alone.

"He's happy too." He repeated, "He's happy too."

The beep of his oven telling him it was warmed up brought Blaine back to reality.

Was he really willing to give everything he had here up for Kurt?


	2. Two

The shrill beeps of Blaine's alarm clock brought him out of the dream world he relished, the one where he was with Kurt every moment. He sighed as he slowly opened his eyes, taking in a deep breath of the warm early summer air as it circulated through his house. He rolled out of bed and shivered a little as his feet hit the hardwood floor that was always suprisingly cold. He meant to put a rug at his bedside. He always forgot to, but it wasn't worth putting one there, he'd only be there for a few more days. He sighed, quickly padding downstairs smiling as the fourth stair from the bottom creaked like it always did. He headed into the kitchen and stretched his shirtless figure, looking out the bay window over the lake, pouring himself a cup of coffee from the pot that had started brewing only a half hour before. He took a sip, leaning against the counter, realizing just how much he was going to miss the mornings here.

It's not like they were anything spectacular, but they were quiet. They were peaceful. No cars and honking horns, none of that at all. Just waking up on your own time to the breeze coming off the lake and the birds singing, which was obnoxious in it's own right, but nothing like honking cars. He sighed, finishing his coffee before heading upstairs to shower and get dressed for his last day as the music teacher at Maple Grove Elementary School. He frowned as he buttoned up his light blue shirt and tied the piano tie the fourth grade class from last year had given him. He gave himself a once over in the mirror, and decided it was good enough. He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows before grabbing his bag off the floor by his desk and his phone off the nightstand. He grabbed his keys from the key-tree in the kitchen and headed out, locking the house behind him. He looked at it for a moment, before sending Kurt the usual good morning message and heading to work.

* * *

Kurt groaned as his phone started to buzz and ring. The familiar recording of Blaine singing 'Teenage Dream' to him played at full volume like it did every morning. Kurt rolled over and picked up his phone to read the message, "Good Morning, my Beautiful." Kurt smiled before getting out of bed, quickly sending back a response. He got up and plodded to the bathroom and started his morning moisturising routine. Blaine always laughed at how well Kurt took care of his skin, but he didn't mind. It was always good to hear Blaine laugh; he loved Blaine's musical laugh. He sighed, he missed Blaine more than he wanted to admit. Since he had last seen Blaine, he had been eating less. He always did when they were seperated. It was harder to sleep without his strong arms wrapped around Kurt's small frame, and he missed the older boy's warmth as they cuddled at night, and the electricity that raced through his veins everytime they kissed, or just pain touched.

He finished his routine and headed into the kitchen for his a bowl of cheerios, always chuckling at the irony that he was at one point a Cheerio, he felt like a cannibal. He grabbed a bowl from the cabinet and poured a bowl full of cheerios before opening the fridge to take the milk out. He opened the carton and got a whiff of one of the worst smells to ever enter his nostrils. He closed the carton and glanced at the date, noting to himself that the milk had gone bad a week ago. He frowned before taking the milk down the hall to dump the contents into the toilet, flushing quickly, hoping -praying to a god he didn't honestly believe in- that the plumbing would behave.

Unfortunately, that was not the case.

"Fuck," he grumbled as the water came to the rim of the toilet but did not swirl back down, "you've gotta be shitting me." He threw his hands up before walking back into his bedroom, picking up his iPhone to quickly dial the building's plumber.


	3. Three

Blaine had had a terrible day by the time 3 o'clock had rolled around. The kids had been upset, and more than one had cried when he announced it would be his last day. None of the kids had wanted to do anything but talk about how much they would miss him the entire class, and it pulled at Blaine's fragile heartstrings. He couldn't help but tear up as the last kid filed out of his classroom. He looked around his classroom and sighed, knowing it would be hard to leave.

All over the walls were pictures of instruments that the kids had drawn next to photographs of them. He sighed, before walking over to one that the class had drawn together. Everyone had drawn themselves with their favorite instrument on a long sheet of paper. Blaine had smiled as he pinned it up, each of the kids excitedly chirping about it behind him.

"Mr. Anderson!" They'd cry out excitedly, "Do you see me?"

"Blaine?" a voice from the doorway had asked quietly. He turned to see Erica Lee, the Art Teacher at Maple Grove, "You alright?"

"No." Blaine said, a sigh escaping his lips, "I mean, I know I should be okay, because as much as it stinks-" he chuckled at his censorship he had become accustomed to, "that I have to leave, I should be thrilled, because I'm moving in with Kurt, and I get to wrap my arms around him every night. I mean, I won't have that empty lonely feeling when I get home, but still. How can I leave this place?"

"Blaine," Erica looked at him, "If you don't want to leave, then don't." "It's not that easy, Erica." He retorted, anger seeping into his tone, "I can't be away from him any longer." "Well, I don't see what's so great about him anyways, Blaine. He's ripping you away from all of this. He sounds like an asshole, if you ask me." Erica said, sitting down in one of the student chairs.

"One, Erica, you know you can't swear here, and two, you don't know him. Don't you DARE talk badly about him!" He half shouted, before quickly recollecting himself, "You should leave." She rolled her eyes before quickly exiting the room, leaving Blaine standing there by himself, tears in his eyes, from frustration, heartbreak and confusion.

* * *

Kurt ran down the busy New York City street, his arms full of sketchbooks and portfolios that wouldn't fit in his bag.

"TAXI!" He shouted, waving an arm frantically, glancing at his watch, "FUCKING TAXI!" Kurt couldn't afford to be late for this meeting. One of the too-familiar New York City cabs pulled over and Kurt hastily hopped in, half shouting the address as he attempted to straighten himself out. He was meeting with a Fashion company this afternoon who was searching for new and upcoming designers. This was the opportunity he had been waiting for. If he managed to land the spot, he could get away with living in the city for a couple more years until his name was established, then he could move back to Vermont like Blaine wanted.

He needed this job.

He paid the cab driver and quickly headed out into the large building. There was a young receptionist sitting at the front desk with long blonde hair and hazel eyes almost as striking as Blaine's.

"Hi, I'm here for my appointment? My name is Kurt Hummel." Kurt smiled, looking at her, adjusting his bag. She rolled her eyes and sighed, typing into her computer quickly.

"He'll see you. Down the hall, last room on the right."


	4. Four

Blaine pulled into his driveway, with a frown. He was sick of coming home knowing he'd be leaving it. He shut the car off and got out, slamming the door a little harder than necessary as he stormed up the steps, fumbling with his keys, becoming even more frustrated than before. He swung the door open and got the feeling immediately that he wasn't alone. He hung up his coat and put the keys on the key tree, closing the door, looking around.

Nothing _seemed_ different, but that didn't mean anything. He quietly walked into his den, where he found everything untouched, except for the photograph of himself and Kurt on the mantle. He slowly walked over to see that the glass had been broken, and on the photograph was a three letter slang term he was very uncomfortable with. He turned, looking around the den, his armchair was untouched, as was the small library on the wall opposite the window that he now noticed was open. He quickly walked over and closed the window, as there was a thud upstairs.

_I knew I should have got a dog, _he thought to himself as he took a deep breath, and headed upstairs. He skipped the fourth step from the bottom, the one that he knew very well by now would creak and give away his position. What was he doing? If there was someone up here breaking into his house, what was he going to do about it? They'd have a weapon, and what did he have? He had nothing, but he sure as hell wasn't letting someone tear his house apart. He reached the top of the stairs, and saw a man standing with another photograph in his hand, the glass smashed in, and a gun in his other hand. Blaine's breath hitched in his chest, and his phone started to sing, a familiar tune, Kurt's voice, singing Defying Gravity.

The man spun around and pointed the gun at Blaine, eyes wide, both of them terrified.

* * *

"Thank you, Mr. Hummel. We'll get back to you within the week." Kurt grinned, thanking everyone multiple times before exiting the building, pressing himself against the wall, sliding down to sit on the ground, a huge smile on his face.

"I've gotta tell Blaine!" Kurt said to himself happily, pulling out his cell phone, clicking 2 then call, the number automatically dialing Blaine.

"Hello, this is Blaine Anderson. Sorry I can't get to the phone -Kurt, cut it out- Sorry I can't get to the phone, but leave me a message, and -Kurt, stop tickling me!- and I'll get back to you." The cheery voicemail sounded.

"Honey, it's me, the interview went really well. Call me. I love you." Kurt pocketed his phone, skipping his way back to the apartment. Blaine would call within fifteen minutes, he always did. Blaine was dependable. When he got home, he pulled his phone out and checked the time. A half hour and no call. He dialed again, and frowned as it rang through to voicemail.

""Hello, this is Blaine Anderson. Sorry I can't get to the phone -Kurt, cut it out- Sorry-" he hung up and tried again.

"Hello, this is Blaine Anderson-" and again.

"Hello, this is Blaine-" and again.

"Hello, this is Bla-" and again, tears filling his eyes, crying out "Blaine, pickuppickuppickup!"

"Hello, this is-" Kurt burst into tears calling one last time to leave a message.

"Hello, this is Blaine Anderson. Sorry I can't get to the phone -Kurt, cut it out- Sorry I can't get to the phone, but leave me a message, and -Kurt, stop tickling me!- and I'll get back to you." The cheery voicemail sounded yet again.

"Blaine, honey, it's Kurt, I'm really scared. Would you PLEASE pick up your phone?"


	5. Five

"DROP THE PHONE!" he screamed, shaking, not moving the gun off of Blaine. Blaine nodded, pulling his phone from his pocket, dropping it on the ground. "PUT YOUR HANDS UP!" The man was terrified. He didn't want to be in this situation anymore than Blaine did, he could tell. Blaine raised his hands, nervous.

"P-please. Don't hurt me."

"SHUT UP, QUEER!" He shouted, lowering the gun a little, and Blaine's phone began to ring again. "Who is it?" He snarled, locking his steel-grey eyes with Blaine's hazel ones.

"My... My boyfriend." Blaine said quietly, and shots rang through the house as the man swung the gun down, shooting Blaine's phone.

"Your kind isn't welcome in this town." He sneered, "we don't want none of your pansy ass bitches here." Blaine swallowed hard, not moving as the man raised the gun, holding it at eye level with Blaine as sirens could be faintly heard.

"Shit." The man bit his lip, before glancing out the window, as the sirens got louder, starting to run towards the door to the balcony, turning back throwing the photograph at Blaine and firing a single shot. Blaine fell to the ground with a thud, a scream escaping from his lips, red blood pouring onto the hardwood flooring. He reached out and grabbed the photograph of himself and Kurt, pulling it close to himself as he started to drift out of consciousness, the sirens outside his house, people rushing inside.

"He's been shot!" a voice yelled, "get the paramedics!"

"Sir, sir, stay with us! C'mon, talk to me, talk to me." a young blonde said, leaning down to meet his eyes, closing slowly. As his eyes closed completely, there was only one word on his lips.

"K-Kurt."

* * *

It had been two hours since Kurt had called Blaine's cell phone for the first time, and he had called the house number a multitude of times as well. Kurt paced the floor in his tiny apartment, phone in hand, waiting.

"C'mon, Blaine. C'mon!" Kurt sank into the couch and turned on the TV, flipping through the news. After a half hour, he felt himself slipping off into a troubled sleep.

He could see Blaine. Standing there, waving to him.

_"Blaine, honey!"_ he called, trying to run, but he was stuck. Blaine's smile faded and he started getting farther and farther away. Kurt ran faster, as some man walked up to Blaine, wrapping his arms around Blaine's neck, like he always did. The man looked at Kurt and shook his head before pressing his lips to Blaine's. But Blaine didn't stop him. Blaine kissed him back, rough.

_"BLAINE!"_ he shouted, angrily, _"BLAINE EVERETT ANDERSON!"_ he shouted, running faster, getting closer. But then everything stopped. The man pulled away from Blaine, and Blaine started walking towards him.

_"Kurt."_ he smiled, walking up to Kurt, extending his hand, pulling him into a hug. Kurt was confused, but he didn't care, he had Blaine there in his arms.

_"I love you, Kurt." _he smiled, pressing his lips to Kurt's forehead._  
_

_"I love you, Blaine."_ he replied, pulling away a little, looking at Blaine, who had something red flowing down his face._ "wha, what, oh my god, Blaine, you're bleeding!"_

Blaine let out a sick laugh as more and more started to flow out of him, and Kurt tried to pull himself away, but couldn't move, Blaine held him there.

His eyes snapped open, breathing heavily. His phone was ringing! Kurt franctically answered his phone.

"Hello?"

"Hello, is this Kurt Hummel?" an unfamiliar voice asked.

"This is Kurt, yes. Who is this?" Kurt's voice was full of worry. Phone calls that started like this never were good.

"We've got Blaine Anderson here," at this, Kurt's heart stopped, "He's been shot." Kurt's phone fell to the ground with a thud.

He'd been shot?


	6. Six

Kurt scrambled to pick the phone up off the ground, ignoring the cracked screen, "He-he's been what?"

"You're the emergency contact listed, Mr. Hummel, and Blaine Anderson, in whichever relation he is to you, has been shot."

"Oh my god, where is he now?" Kurt stammered out, his heart pounding.

"He's been rushed to the hospital in Burlington." The man responded coolly.

"I'll be there soon." Kurt hung up his phone and pocketed it, running out to where his car was in the parking garage. He quickly got in, and started it, speeding his way through back streets out of the city, flooring it on the highway.

"I'm coming, Blaine, I'm coming." he murmured to himself, weaving in and out of traffic.

* * *

Three hours later, Kurt was sitting by Blaine's side in a hospital room, holding his hand tight. Blaine was laying in a bed, hooked up to multiple machines and an IV drip, asleep. Kurt sighed, running his thumb along Blaine's knuckles, the pain on Blaine's face visible.

"Blaine, I love you." Kurt whispered, pressing his lips to Blaine's forehead. Blaine's face relaxed a little, as he adjusted a little in his sleep. Kurt sat on the edge of Blaine's bed, afraid to lay down next to him like he wanted to because of all of the cords. He sighed, before moving the cords out of his way to lay down next to Blaine, who's arms immediately wrapped around him, his face automatically nuzzling itself into his neck.

Kurt felt tears well up in his eyes, and for the first time since he had got the news, he cried. He let the hot tears that stung his face flow, his body racked with sobs as he wrapped his arms around Blaine.

"K-Kurt?" he heard a small voice ask, just barely audible.

"Blaine!" Kurt exclaimed happily, the tears slowly stopping, "Blaine, baby, it's me." Blaine opened his eyes, the gorgeous hazel eyes Kurt loved so much, and smiled, tightening his grip on Kurt a little.

"Kurt, you're here."

"Of course I am, Blaine." Kurt replied, kissing him, slipping his tongue into Blaine's mouth. He kissed him, loving the feeling after not kissing him for three months, and straddled his waist, kissing him deeper before quickly coming to the realization Blaine was hurt.

"Kurt, why are you here?" Blaine asked, a little suprised as Kurt pulled away, moving off of his hips.

"You're hurt, Blaine. I couldn't let you be here alone." Kurt tried to smile as the words came out of his mouth, "You were shot, Blaine. How could I possibly stay in New York when my boyfriend was shot?" Blaine's heart stopped a little, as he realized the truth of Kurt's words.

He had been shot.

A homophobic man had broken into his house, written slurs about him on his photographs, and shot him.

"He... he wrote it... that word. He wrote it on our picture, Kurt." Blaine said, tears welling up in his own eyes, "Why do they hate us?"

"Because, Blaine," Kurt said, stroking Blaine's curls, "They're intolerant, and they don't understand that we can love each other, even though we're both men." Kurt kissed him softly.

"They're just jealous of how pure our love is." Kurt smiled, kissing him again.

"I love you, Kurt." Blaine choked through the tears, nuzzling his face into Kurt's neck.

"I love you too, Blaine. More than anything."


	7. Seven

Two days later, after Blaine had been persistent, and numerous tests, he was released from the hospital. He nearly ran out the door, excited to get home. Kurt laughed, following him, realizing how much he really had missed his free-spirited lover. Blaine got in the passenger's seat of Kurt's car, giving him directions back to the house, excitement dripping off his every word. Kurt finally pulled into the driveway in front of Blaine's house and smiled. He enjoyed this house. It was cute. It was sophisticated. It was Blaine as a house.

"I'm home, house!" Blaine laughed, getting out, walking inside, remembering the photographs, quickly taking the two from the den, setting them face down so Kurt wouldn't see. He would re-print them. It'd be okay.

"I love this house." Kurt smiled, walking inside. It was true, he did love it. He just didn't know if he could live in it.

"Me too." Blaine grinned, as Kurt made his way upstairs, before letting out a scream. Blaine ran up the stairs before realizing why Kurt yelled. There they stood, where Blaine's blood stained the wood floor.

"Oh god, Kurt." Blaine quickly covered the taller boy's eyes with his hand, scooping him up to set him on his bed facing the window that overlooks the lake, "I'll find something to cover that with." Blaine quickly made his way to the bathroom, taking the small rug that sat in front of the shower. He plopped it down on top of the stain, covering it all the way, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

"I'm going to find the guy who did this to you," Kurt snarled, "And I'm going to beat him."

"Kurt," Blaine sighed, sitting down next to him on the bed, wrapping his arms around him, "That doesn't make you any better than him."

"I don't care! He shot you, Blaine. He took a gun, and he **_shot_** you."

"I know, Kurt. I was there." He chuckled, but quickly recovered his serious tone as Kurt shot him a glare, "but you've gotta just turn the other cheek and know that he'll get his come-uppance."

"You're such an amazing person, Blaine." Kurt grinned, before gently pressing his lips to Blaine's. Blaine smiled as he felt Kurt's rosy lips on his own, pulling Kurt into him, kissing him rougher, laying back onto the bed.

* * *

Blaine smiled, holding Kurt's sleeping figure in his arms as the warm summer air drifted through the open window, blowing the sheer curtains inward. He had missed this part of Kurt the most. Not the kisses, even though he _had_ missed them. Not the sex either, because even though he had missed it too, just holding Kurt's smiling sleeping body was the best part of it. The smile on Kurt's fae, and knowing he was the reason behind it was a prize in itself, but as he let out a contented sigh, he remembered the other best part of holding Kurt.

Being together.

Kurt nuzzled his face into Blaine's neck, letting out a small squeak in his sleep. Blaine smiled as the involuntarily squeak escaped his boyfriend's lips, it was almost the cutest thing he had ever heard. Blaine pressed his lips to Kurt's forehead as he had so many times before, whispering against his skin.

"Goodnight, Kurt." He smiled, closing his eyes, already beginning to drift off, "I love you."


	8. Eight

Kurt's eyes fluttered open as the sun filtered into the room. He quickly went to sit up, realizing he was wrapped in Blaine's arms as they slowly retreated from around him.

"Oops." he whispered to himself, tucking Blaine back under the covers. He hadn't slept with Blaine in months, but still, it felt so comfortable, so normal, so routine. He padded into the bathroom, being extra careful to avoid where a bathmat seemed misplaced in the bedroom, turning on the shower.

Here he was, in Vermont, with Blaine. He wasn't in New York City where he was supposed to be, and he didn't miss the hustle and bustle at all. He quickly stripped off his clothes, stepping into the shower, smiling as the hot water rained over his tense muscles. The water pressure was a thousand times better here, he noted to himself, so much better than my crappy apartment. He didn't have to worry about running out of hot water either, he took note of with a grin, and he didn't have to worry about the landlord kicking him out because he was gay, because _Blaine_ owned this didn't have to worry about getting woken up by the stupid neighbors who lived above him at three in the morning, or the cars that lay on their horns all hours of the night. He didn't have to worry about the police showing up at his apartment every week when people called about the domestic disturbances on his floor. Here, in Vermont with Blaine, he didn't have to worry about anything but keeping the sheets on the bed fresh and the windows cleaned. When he was here with Blaine, he didn't have to worry at all, because everything he could every worry about, Blaine had already taken care of.

He reached for the shampoo bottle that was the same as the one he used at home in New York; Blaine had kept a bottle, bar, jar or tube of everything Kurt used, just in case Kurt had forgotten anything when he packed. When Kurt wasn't here, all of his products went untouched, as all Blaine ever used was body wash, a bar of soap and some generic shampoo brand that Kurt wouldn't dare let touch his own locks. He heard a disgruntled noise come from the bedroom, signaling that Blaine was finally awake. He chuckled as he heard a thud and Blaine let out a grunt, no doubt hitting his knee off the bedside table like he always did.

Blaine meant to move that table, he always said he would. He just hadn't got around to it yet. But he would.

"Today," he said, glaring at the table, his voice gruff from sleep, "Today, I _will_ move you, if it's the last thing I do." He grumbled, heading into the bathroom before he realized the shower was running. It took a minute for the wheels to click into place.

**_Kurt._**

He grinned, quickly stripping his clothes off, stepping into the shower like it was empty. Kurt jumped as he Blaine stepped in, suprised. He pressed himself up against the wall as Blaine started to wet his curls. The entire time they had been together, he had **never** showered with him. Kurt shook his head a little, taking a step towards Blaine, wrapping his arms around his neck from behind, whispering in his ear.

"Good morning, Sunshine." Kurt smiled, trying to be seductive, but Blaine wasn't taking it. Not this early in the morning at least.

"Morning." he replied with a smug grin, knowing exactly what Kurt was trying to do.


	9. Nine

"But Blaine!" Kurt shouted, looking at him, "Isn't this what you've been trying to convince me of for months now?" Blaine sighed, looking to Kurt. He didn't want to fight about this.

"Kurt," He spoke calmly, his voice was cool and collected, "Do you remember what happened a grand total of three days ago?" Kurt stopped, and looked at Blaine, meeting his hazel eyes. What was he thinking? How could they possibly stay here now? Blaine had been shot, he forced himself to remember, and his blood stained the floor upstairs. Whether or not he loved this house, and how much better it was than his apartment, and how much freer he felt here, it wasn't safe. Not yet. The man who had hurt Blaine was still out there.

"But, if we go to New York, aren't we just running away?" Kurt asked quietly, averting his eyes from Blaine's. 

_Running away. _Blaine hated the phrase. He had _run away_ from his high school when things got bad, he had gone to Dalton. He was a coward.

"No, Kurt, we're being safe." he retorted anger seeping into his voice as he walked into the kitchen to pour himself a second cup of coffee, his gaze casting out over the lake.

"Blaine, it's no more safe there than here. The only difference is nothing's happened there." Kurt couldn't believe the words that were coming from his mouth. He knew just as well as Blaine did that it wasn't safe here, and he knew they both understood New York was no different. There was nowhere they would ever be completely safe. Not together anyways.

"Kurt!" Blaine snapped, turning to face him, "He could still be out there!" Blaine thrust his arm towards the front door before sweeping it around to the windows. He didn't want to shout at Kurt, but it seemed it was the only way anything was going to get through to him.

"But-"

"No, Kurt! No buts! He could be sitting outside watching us right now, _waiting_ to come in here to hurt you too! You don't get it Kurt, we can't stay here." Blaine poured the coffee down the sink, unsure of why he poured it in the first place, quickly rinsing his mug.

"So, you don't trust me?" Kurt asked, sheepishly, tears welling up in his eyes. He had Blaine had been in fights before, but Blaine had _never_ shouted at him.

"Kurt, this has nothing to do with me not trusting you. I don't want you getting hurt." He sighed, walking to Kurt, to wrap him in a hug, but Kurt pushed him off.

"No, I get it. I finally decide that I want to move in up here, like you've been trying to convince me, and you don't want me here. I get it. I was stupid to think that this would ever work." Kurt frowned, looking at him, "I'll grab the stuff I've got here, and I'll leave."

"What? Kurt, no!" Blaine half-shouted, eyes wide as Kurt stormed up the stairs, tears in his eyes. Blaine frowned, pressing his fists to his temples, a hot tear rolling down his cheek.

**_What have I done?_**


	10. Ten

Kurt fell face first into their bed, tears in his eyes as he curled up into Blaine's pillow, taking in his scent. He hugged the pillow tight, letting the tears flow from his eyes.

"Blaine..." He murmured softly before drifting off into sleep, unaware of just how tired he was.

* * *

Blaine waited downstairs for a bit for Kurt to calm down, but didn't hear him moving anything. After about a half hour of worried pacing, Blaine ran up the stairs to see Kurt asleep curled up with his pillow. A smile tugged at the corners of Blaine's lips as he walked over, kissing Kurt's forehead lightly. He pulled the covers up over Kurt who automatically rolled over to where Blaine would normally be, his face scrunching up a bit as he felt the empty air, his hands reaching for Blaine. Blaine smiled, taking Kurt's hand, and Kurt's face softened, a smile crossing his face.

"Blaine." He mumbled in his sleep, pulling him closer, snuggling into him. Blaine smiled, laying down next to Kurt, their bodies quickly becoming intertwined. Their fights never lasted longer than a day. It might have something with not living together, and so their time together was scarce. It might just be because they both realized their fights were stupid. Maybe it was just because they loved each other too much to fight. Whatever the reason, Blaine was glad that they didn't fight.

Within a another hour, Kurt was slowly waking up, his face on Blaine's chest. His eyes fluttered open, looking up at Blaine who sat in bed next to him, reading a book with his glasses on as if nothing had happened.

"Blaine?" Kurt squeaked out, his voice a bit raspy from sleep, "Blaine, why are you cuddling with me? I yelled at you." Blaine chuckled, putting a bookmark in his book, pulling off his glasses. He set the book on the bedside table, pressing his lips against Kurt's forehead.

"I yelled too, Kurt." He frowned, "So I could ask you the same thing."

"Well, I love you, silly." Kurt smiled, playing with one of Blaine's curls.

"I love you too, Kurt. That's why we can't stay here. I want to, and I'm thrilled, no, I'm _estatic_ you want to stay here, but it's not safe." Blaine frowned, hugging Kurt tight.

"I guess you're right," Kurt nodded with a sigh, burying his face into Blaine's chest.

"We'll move back when it's safe, Kurt. If you want to, that is." Blaine said quietly as Kurt looked up at him, kissing the underside of his jaw.

"Of course. There's a big yard for our kids here, Blaine."


	11. Eleven

Blaine slammed the trunk of his car shut, putting on a smile as he turned to face Kurt. His whole life had been packed into boxes and suitcases and put into two cars. Kurt smiled, pecking his lips before getting into his Navigator, starting it. Blaine bit his lip as he got into his car, looking at his house. Not everything had been packed, as not all of it would fit into Kurt's tiny apartment. Blaine started his car and followed Kurt out of the driveway and onto the interstate. He didn't think as they drove, he just turned on the stereo and let the music drown out any thought that might come into his head. He just kept an eye on Kurt's navigator, following it closely.

The hours dragged by as Blaine tried to not drown in his own thoughts. He found his car coming to a slow stop, realizing that he had followed Kurt into the parking garage near his building. He sighed, parking next to him before putting on a smile, getting out.

"You alright, Blaine?" Kurt asked, knowing full well he wasn't, but he also knew Blaine would never tell him that he wasn't. Even though he knew it was a lie, Kurt felt a little better when Blaine responded he was fine.

They unloaded the boxes and suitcases from the cars, and somehow managed to bring all of them in one trip. They loaded themselves onto the elevator, setting everything down. Kurt took Blaine's hand, squeezing it gently. Blaine offered half a smile, knowing Kurt just wanted to see him happy. The elevator came to a stop, and they brought everything out and down the hallway to Kurt's apartment. He quickly unlocked the door, ushering Blaine in.

"Welcome home, Blaine." Kurt smiled, closing them door behind them.

"Home. Yeah."

* * *

Blaine lay awake, staring at the ceiling as Kurt slept, his face buried into Blaine's chest. Blaine tried not to sigh as the people who lived above Kurt continued to fight, screaming about taking care of the baby they shared, regardless of the fact that it was nearly three in the morning.

Their screaming silenced for a minute as the cries of a baby began, and they began to shout again, this time about waking the baby up. Blaine stroked Kurt's hair, wondering how the boy could possibly sleep through this. He struggled to keep his eyes open, his eyelids growing heavy.

He was tired. He knew he was. But how could he sleep with the world's most dysfunctional family above him?

He closed his eyes, and held Kurt close, trying to block out the noise. He focused on Kurt's breathing, the steady in and out, and the occasional squeak as a small sigh escaped his lips.

In. Out. In. Out. In. Squeak. In. Out. In. Out. In.

Blaine didn't hear the screams anymore, just Kurt's breathing, a smile tugging at his lips as he drifted from consciousness.


	12. Twelve

"LIKE A VIRGIN, TOUCHED FOR THE VERY FIRST TIIIIME~"

Blaine's eyes snapped open as the sound of Kurt's shower performance drifted to his ears. He grinned, sitting up, stretching. This had always been his favorite part of the morning. When Kurt was relaxed and comfortable enough to sing in the shower. He had never sang in the shower in Blaine's home in Vermont, and Blaine had missed it so. He rolled out of bed and padded to the bathroom, humming to himself.

"Like a viiiiiiirgin, when your heart beats, next to mine-" Blaine sang, stepping into the bathroom, laughing as he heard a thud when Kurt dropped the bar of soap.

"Christ, Blaine. Way to warn me." came the playful response from the boy in the shower, his silhouette visible through the curtain.

"Should I have knocked?" Blaine teased, pulling off his shirt, "I _do_ live here now."

"I know, I know, I just wasn't expecting you to wake up so early." Kurt replied, scrubbing himself.

"It's hard to sleep with you belting out Madonna at the top of your lungs." Blaine laughed, stripping off the rest of his clothes, pulling the curtain of the shower back, stepping in.

"Well, you slept through Lady Gaga, so I didn't figure Madonna would wake you." Kurt grinned, pecking Blaine's lips, "I am sorry for waking you though."

"It's no problem." Blaine smiled, kissing him softly, lingering against his lips, "Good Morning."

* * *

"So what am I supposed to do all day?" Blaine pouted, looking at Kurt.

"I don't know, explore the city or something." Kurt said flatly over his coffee cup, taking a sip of the warm liquid inside.

"But Kuuuurt." Blaine whined, not liking the idea of becoming a puppy with separation anxiety when Kurt left for work, "Can't you just stay home?"

"No, Blaine." Kurt said, his tone firm, "I was supposed to start three days ago, but I had to leave on a short notice. I'm lucky they understood and are letting me start today." Blaine nodded before drinking some of his coffee.

"I'm just going to be lonely is all." he frowned, looking to the taller boy who sat poised on the couch, his blue eyes sparkling as light filtered through the curtains.

"You'll be just fine. You've got the internet." Kurt laughed lightly before pecking Blaine's lips and walking to the kitchen, depositing his empty mug into the sink, "I'm heading out. I'll be home around four. You'll make it, I promise."

"I'll try." Blaine pouted, which got him a wink as Kurt closed the door behind him. He sighed, setting his mug down on the coffee table, sinking back into the couch, flicking on the small TV. What was he going to do for 8 hours?

It wasn't like a weekend for him where he could go swim in the lake by his house, or go for a run through the country side. This was New York City, and honestly, he was a bit terrified. He wasn't a city person; he hated feeling like a sardine.

He got up after flicking through all 700 of Kurt's TV channels and finding nothing to watch, a cliche` that was actually applicable in real life. He padded around Kurt's apartment, exploring, trying to learn where everything was before Kurt got home. Kurt had a habit of rearranging his apartment every six months, and so whenever Blaine would come to visit, he would have to relearn everything. He grinned as he started to get it down; knowing the location of everything in this apartment was a feat in itself, as Kurt had a lot of things to remember the placement of.

He smiled as he padded back to the couch, confident of his knowledge of the apartment before glancing at the clock.

"How is it only Ten A.M?"


	13. Thirteen

"KURT! YOU'RE HOME!" Blaine shouted, jumping off the couch as he heard the door swing open, tackling the younger yet taller boy who had his arms full of groceries.

"Blaine, I wasn't even gone that long!" Kurt laughed, kissing the top of the other boy's curly head, "Now get off of me so I can put these groceries away." Blaine nodded, reluctantly removing himself from his lover as Kurt set the bags of groceries on the counter top in the kitchen. They quickly unloaded the groceries, putting them away in a timely fashion.

"Y'know," Kurt smiled, leaning against the counter as Blaine stood on his tippy toes to put the last box of cereal away, "I'm impressed at the fact you know where all of these things go."

"I learned the apartment while you were gone," Blaine confessed with a sheepish grin, "But what else was there to do?"

"Blaine," Kurt smiled, walking over to wrap his arms around his waist, resting his chin on the shorter boy's shoulder, "That's adorable."

"It's practical, actually." Blaine chuckled, turning himself in Kurt's arms to peck his lips lightly, "I wouldn't do much good living in an apartment where I had no idea where anything was."

"That's a good point, but you shouldn't shoot it down when I tell you that you're cute." Kurt laughed a little before kissing Blaine softly again, padding into the living room, flopping onto the small couch, looking up at Blaine who had followed him.

"So, how was your first day, mister Fashion Designer?" He asked with a smile, sitting down next to him.

"Absolutely terrible." Kurt sighed, curling up into a ball, nuzzling his face into Blaine's chest as his strong arms wrapped around Kurt's frame, "They shot down every idea I presented."

"Well, they've got no style." Blaine offered, kissing the top of Kurt's head, "Your sense of style is fantastic, you'll do fine, don't worry, Kurt."

"I know," Kurt nodded a little with a sigh, "It just sucks." Blaine wrapped his arms a little tighter, hugging Kurt close. Kurt smiled, before crawling into Blaine's lap, taking a deep breath and inhaling Blaine's scent. Blaine grinned, setting a hand on Kurt's thigh, rubbing small circles.

"I love you, Kurt." he whispered softly.

"I love you too, Blaine."

* * *

"IF YOU WOULD JUST LISTEN!" came a shout from upstairs, just barely muffled by the floor. Blaine's eyes snapped open, realizing he had fallen asleep on the couch with Kurt, who still slept soundly in his arms.

"I don't know how you do it." He chuckled before managing to stand up, carrying Kurt bridal-style down the small hallway of his apartment to deposit him into their bed. He smiled, setting Kurt down on the queen size bed, pressing his lips to Kurt's forehead gently. Kurt's face scrunched up as Blaine let him go, immediately searching for the warmth he had fallen asleep in.

"Blaine?" He squeaked out, half asleep, his arms searching for his boyfriend.

"I'm right here," Blaine said softly, taking Kurt's hand in his own, "go back to sleep." After a few minutes, when he was sure Kurt had fallen asleep again, he padded his way back out into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, leaning against the counter as he began to drink it. He jumped a little as the shouts from upstairs began again right above his head this time.

"THE BABY IS GOING TO WAKE UP, YOU STUPID BITCH!" Blaine rolled his eyes, before closing the bottle of water and grabbed a broom, intent on knocking on the ceiling to signal that he also lived in the building. He jumped a couple of times, trying to reach, frowning and cursing himself as he came a few inches short. He quickly scrambled on top of the counter, pounding on the ceiling with the end of the broom, grinning as the shouts turned into muffled hushed curses shot between the couple upstairs.

"Blaine?" Kurt asked, sleepily rubbing his eyes as he rounded the corner into the kitchen, "Blaine, honey, what are you doing up there?" Blaine jumped, nearly falling off of the counter as he locked eyes with his boyfriend, face flushing red.

"They were yelling," he explained, hopping down onto the floor, "and I didn't want them to wake you. But it looks like they did."

"It was actually the pounding of the broomstick that woke me up." Kurt laughed lightly, taking Blaine's hand, "Now let's go back to bed. You look exhausted."


End file.
